


Memento

by BoltedBee



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violent Thoughts, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoltedBee/pseuds/BoltedBee
Summary: Starscream has his own way of confronting his numerous problems.





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no I've gone back to my usual themes of misery for a moment.

Starscream felt like he lay idle for several hours before Megatron had finally fallen into recharge behind him; the only telltale signs being slower vents and the bulky arm over him becoming lax. He was largely exhausted himself, but any variety of stasis was illusive lately. Starscream had waited until Megatron was dead to the world before even trying to move. Most nights he would find any minor movement waking the brute, but on this night, he was fortunate. Starscream gently lifted the massive servo that lay over his frame, pulling his wing from the minor gap between mech and berth padding, then sneaking from beneath it and sliding from the berth. His vents stalled as he set the arm back down, grateful the sleeping mech didn't stir.

As he made to fully stand, Starscream found a new well of pain surging from valve to backstrut, different points throbbing intermittently. Starscream ignored it and made his way to the adjoining washroom slowly, as his newly-found limp impeded his progress. The pain burned in ways that were overly familiar, but he couldn't find it in himself to greet them. There was only resentment.

The door closed behind him as he the taps were turned on: boiling hot at first, then slowly, reluctantly the cold was turned with it. For a moment, Starscream enjoyed the heated spray as it bore down on his frame and washed away the evening's activities. But that wasn't enough.

Using his right servo, he dug his claws harshly into his inner right thigh, easily drawing fluorescent lines horizontally across it, drawing a prolonged hiss from the sharp intake of air. They created an extra welt over the older scars that had mostly healed. The four small wounds easily bled and were just as easily washed away by the warm chemicals that doused Starscream's frame. Feeling moderately satisfied with the damage, Starscream used his opposite servo to mark another four lines into his left thigh, steeling himself again as his claws noisily scraped along the thinner metal. In no time at all there was another set of lines across his thighs, every one making a fresh X with his new marks. The water immediately wiped the discharge again, diluting it as it ran down his legs and into the drain below. Starscream didn't care where it went.

A few more, choice marks were made into the thinner metal of his thighs as Starscream mulled over the reasons why he felt the need to mutilate himself. For so long he had taken the utmost pride in his appearance, usually to attract a temporary mate. But those days were long gone and he was deadlocked in the center of a war, made to fight more than just a simple Decepticon versus Autobot scuffle. It didn't matter though, as the marks he made would likely be considered to be Megatron's own doing whenever he initiated interface sessions with Starscream. He could be quite the rough lover, after all.

Besides, it's not as if anyone else would question damage done to such an intimate region, even if they were able to see it. The scars were Starscream's own burden to bear, and all he had full control over.

Even as second-in-command, his authority was often undermined by Megatron or Shockwave, or even Soundwave at the worst of times. He was not appreciated or respected, probably not even by the simple drones, though they mattered far less. But what was the point of having a high-ranking position if one was not taken seriously? Why wouldn't they, when Starscream had led them so often to victories in battle, to outsmarting Autobots, and coming up with winning strategies?

Starscream drew a particularly vicious line close to his thigh juncture as he realized, it was all because of Megatron. He drew his claws against his abused valve, drawing on his darkest fantasies of how best to anger the brute as they grazed the tender lips. But then, Starscream thought better of it. With a defeated and frustrated growl, he dug two digits into his valve, intent on drawing out all the foreign fluid he could, attempting to rid himself of the feeling of being conquered; of being owned. He grimaced as he felt the transfluid finally start to exit his body, burning his fresh wounds on the way down his legs.

As soon as he was certain all the fluid was gone, Starscream gave himself one final rinse, rubbing off his valve and shaking his servos before finally turning off the taps. He rested against the wall a moment, taking the time to manually dry off, not wanting to return to that berth just yet. It wasn't as if he couldn't return to his own, but Megatron usually expected him to stay after interface sessions if they weren't impromptu. The last thing he needed was being reprimanded for something that menial.

Starscream trudged back to the master quarters but stopped just after the threshold. His optics traced Megatron's frame, but it was far from desire that he felt. There was a well of anger, of stung pride and humiliation. There was loathing. Starscream felt his claws prepare to strike before he was aware as he took a few more steps toward the berth. His idle tracing turned to a hardened, fiery glare as he vividly imagined how easy it would be to cut the warlord's throat open on the spot; how satisfying it would be as he watched such a powerful mech wretch and gasp for air as he bled out. It would be slow for a mech so large, and he was sure to lash out at his assailant in his final moments. Would he look surprised when he saw Starscream above him, finding a wide grin and bloodied claws? He shouldn't, as he knew well Starscream's intentions for the past several thousand years.

And yet, Megatron willingly allowed himself to be completely vulnerable in Starscream's presence. Was he stupid? Did he actually trust the seeker? Or worse yet, did he know Starscream truly didn't possess the spark to fully commit to such an act.

Every possibility infuriated Starscream to the point of rage. His vents grew harsher as he raised his talons, prepared to strike, until another thought crossed his mind... Perhaps, in some sick sense, Megatron actually cared about him. It could explain why he never killed Starscream despite his threats, despite his outward treatment and abuse toward him. The brute _did_ have the capacity to be intimate and loving if he truly wanted to be. Starscream felt his arm lower as he began to realize those flashes of meaningful emotion and care are what he lived for anymore. The war wasn't going to end anytime soon and there was sure to be only sparkache in his future. He felt his new wounds sting at the idea.

Starscream slumped in self-defeat, knowing what horrific repercussions could befall him if he somehow managed to fail in his desires to kill Megatron. Instead of taking the unnecessary risk, he lifted the heavy arm again and slid back under its protective embrace, in the warm berth. As Starscream saw it, he could make things much worse for himself, or ideally much better if he was obedient, subservient. He hated it, but for as long as his situation had been miserable, he much preferred the path of least resistance. And that path led him to curl himself against the massive frame that had done him so much harm, even as that normally-aggressive arm subconsciously pulled him close, a pleased growl leaving the bigger mech's throat.

Close, protected, wanted. Loved.

Starscream allowed those warm words to lull him into recharge, temporarily freeing him of hate and anger, and pulling him into the empty void of escape.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a bit of an impromptu idea because it's just where my mind has been lately in terms of subject matter. If you read this, thanks for making it to the end.
> 
> Comments and crits welcome.


End file.
